


Life's a party if nothing else

by D_f_m22



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 15:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13573797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_f_m22/pseuds/D_f_m22
Summary: After Missy struggles to understand a human celebration, the Doctor lets her plan her own party.Bill and Nardole have mixed reactions.





	Life's a party if nothing else

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Madam_Violet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madam_Violet/gifts).



> Based on a prompt by Madam_violet. This fic kind of took on a life of it's own.

The sun was setting over the university’s campus, casting long shadows over the redbrick buildings. It was the warm type of sunset that appeared in the last days of spring and first days of summer, drenching the horizon with orange and red hues. It made everything more sedate, covering the atmosphere with a pleasant buzz akin to the warm tingling feeling of red wine resting in a full stomach after a satisfying meal. 

 

Across the quad, a group of students made their way towards the student union bar. They were singing and dancing and laughing as they rang in the end of the academic year and celebrated the last of their exams. 

 

Bill Potts, however, was not involved with the joviality. Well, not that type of joviality, at least. Instead, Bill was celebrating her end of term in the only way that seemed fitting: with an ancient alien and his cyborg friend. Sat in the Doctor’s office, Bill picked up her nearly-finished bottle of cider and took a swig. Nardole hovered by the window, glancing out over the campus and chuckling at the sight of staggering youth. The Doctor was busy reading the label of his 1750 pinot noir, picking at the label edge in consideration and scowling at the sticky residue that came away on his fingers.

 

“Did you not fancy joining the other students?” Nardole asked, turning and walking back towards the seated area of the office. 

 

“Nah,” Bill said, shaking her head. The human’s face was relaxed, a blush of pink across her cheeks as the alcohol pumped through her veins. “I’d much rather spend it with my space family. Anyway, I kinda didn’t get invited to any of their parties. I guess when you spend half your time in extra-tutorials and half your time travelling across the universe, you lose the few friends you had.”

 

Bill’s remark is casual, but it masks the deeper hurt and rejection she had initially felt. 

The Doctor notices her tone and looks away from his bottle of wine. He feels a pang of guilt that he’s the cause of another human’s alienation from earth life. 

 

“You’ve got two friends here,” he said gruffly. Its harsher than he’d like but this face has never been good at consolation. The younger, bouncier ones had been better at it. “And we’ve cracked open the best wine to celebrate your first year full of firsts.” 

 

“I’m not complaining,” Bill says instantly. “I mean, how could I complain about being able to travel the eras and the stars? There are plenty of people down here that don’t get that and are lonely anyway.”

 

“Quite,” the Doctor mumbled in agreement.

 

Standing, he crossed the space from behind his desk to where his friends are sat in the living area. Popping the cork of the wine, the Doctor filled three glasses with the burgundy liquid. His office was basked in the same orange hues as outside but also intermingled with the mahogany tones of the ancient wooden furniture. Dust coated the books and table. A warm breeze- several degrees warmer than the usual May weather- slips in through open window and made the net curtain flutter up and down. 

Nardole nodded his thanks, while Bill eyedthe drink with caution. 

 

“I’m not much of a wine drinker,” she confessed as she waved the empty bottle of cider. “It’s a bit too…grown up for me.”

 

In the background, Nardole sips his drink and made pleased little noises. 

 

“I’m not grown up and I love this wine,” the Doctor says. “Go on, give it a try.”

 

And give it a try she did. 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Bill found that the wine, not unlike the Tardis, made time move in a strange way. She could’ve sworn only five minutes had passed since she’d tentatively taken her first sip of the drink but, the sunset outside had now been replaced by the new day’s sunrise. Three figures of varying levels of soberness sat around the table, all too lethargic (and hungover) to consider moving. 

 

The hangover didn’t silence Bill’s inquiring nature, however. 

 

“Was that Gallifreyan wine?” She asked.

 

Her voice rippled through the Doctor’s mind and mingled with the persistent banging residing there. 

 

The Doctor groaned and ran his hand over his face. In several clumsy movements, he hauled himself up and stretched his back. Nardole remained on the floor, bowl of crisps in his lap and head rested back against the sofa as his mouth hung open in slumber. 

 

“No,” the Doctor said with a heavy voice. “Not Gallifreyan. I’m not in the habit of killing my friends.”

 

“Do you have wine on Gallifrey? From what I’ve heard you’re not the partying type of species.”

 

“We have wine,” the Doctor confirmed. “And we have parties. Rasillon knows in our youth, Missy and I knew how to party.”

 

“They have wine,” Nardole concurred, having woken up with the new noise in the room. His eyes remained firmly closed but there’s an odd smile on his face as he clearly reminisced a fond encounter. “River introduced me to some very fine Gallifreyan wine and an even finer Gallifreyan droid.”

 

Bill pulled a face at the idea of Nardole’s robotic fling and the Doctor and Missy partying. It was like when children found out their parents had a life before they had them. 

 

“You and Missy used to party?”

 

“Of course we did!” The Doctor said. “We did grow up together and parties are a great part of life.”

 

“Speaking of Missy,” Nardole said with a renewed energy. “I’d better get her breakfast ready.”

 

“I’ll go,” the Doctor said. “She’s going to be annoyed that I didn’t visit her yesterday evening.”

 

Bill watched the encounter curiously. Despite learning of Missy’s existence nearly a year ago, she knew very little about the Time Lady’s daily routine. The Doctor had striven to keep his life as professor and mentor separate from his life as gatekeeper to the Vault. 

 

With a sudden rush of courage (probably helped by the wine), Bill found herself asking, “can I come too?” 

 

The Doctor and Nardole looked at each other and back to the young human. 

 

Bill sensed their hesitance. 

 

“Oh come on, what’s the worst that can happen?” 

 

“Quite literally everything bad that you can ever imagine could happen,” Nardole deadpanned. 

 

The Doctor nudged him harshly in the ribs. 

 

“If you come,” the Time Lord started. “You have to do exactly as I say. Understand?”

 

Bill beamed, excitement and interest pooling in her stomach. 

 

“Got it,” she mock salutes. 

 

The Doctor scoffs.

 

“Don’t bloody salute me!”

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Missy was laying in her bed when she sensed the arrival of visitors outside her Vault. It’s morning…early morning from what she can tell by the lack of sound outside. It was a stark difference from the night before that had revellers shouting and singing long into the night. Sitting up, the Time Lady reached for her dressing gown and shrugged it on in anticipation for the Doctor’s arrival. As she stood, a shiver ran through her body at the contact with the cool tiles. 

 

She was going to have to press the Doctor for that new rug. 

 

Prowling over to the containment field in slow and considered steps, the Doctor’s voice boomed into the room. 

 

“I’m going to activate the security fields, get in the contained area.”

 

“Please,” Missy trilled petulantly. 

 

“What?” The Doctor asked tiredly. 

 

Bill and Nardole hovered behind the Time Lord.

 

“Say please,” Missy responded. “You have to have manners to be good. Honestly, dear, I thought it was you that was teaching me how to be good not the other way around.”

 

The Doctor groaned as he realised Missy knew that she had an audience. 

 

“Get in the contained area, please” he repeated.

 

“Yes, sir” Missy drawled as she entered the containment field and sat down at the piano. “Would you like me to play a musical entrance for you? I can make it ceremonial, if you’d like.”

 

“No, thank you. That won’t be necessary Missy.”

 

Missy clanged the piano keys in a messy movement. 

 

“Spoil sport.” 

 

Bill and Nardole exchanged another look as the Doctor opened the doors. 

 

“Ah, I’d hoped the smell was just the leftover stench from those inebriated infants last night. Pity, you bought the rotten egg and the human.”

 

“The rotten egg has bought you breakfast,” the Doctor said.

 

“And has a name!” Nardole squeaked, placing the tray of breakfast on the table. 

 

Missy glowered at him, standing and approaching the glass cage like a tiger.

 

“Wait,” Bill questioned. “Did you say inebriated infants?” 

 

“She means students,” the Doctor informed Bill. “You’re all walking embryos to us.”

 

“It’s a wonder you don’t fall over your umbilical cords,” Missy tutted. 

 

As she spoke, she looked over the Doctor’s shoulder and past Bill to watch Nardole dishing up her breakfast.

 

“Honey or sugar with your porridge, Missy?”

 

“Honey,” Missy said instantly. “Two tablespoons.”

 

“You’re going to have one tablespoon,” the cyborg said, mumbling to himself something about Time Lords and self-control. “Now, orange or apple juice?”

 

“Cranberry juice,” Missy replied without missing a beat. “The kind from Venus.”

 

Nardole rolled his eyes and poured orange juice. Bill wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when she’d entered the Vault, but this wasn’t it. At present, Missy was acting like a contentious toddler.

 

“Have you finished showing off yet?” The Doctor asked Missy. “Bill wanted to come down here and see what your life’s like in the Vault.”

 

“Did she now?” Missy trilled as she looked over at the human. “Well, here I am. The main event in all her glory. Well, not quite all her glory but that could be arranged,” Missy said with a wink that distracted both Bill and the Doctor.

 

Regaining some composure, the Doctor noted Missy’s heightening adrenaline and motioned with his hand trying to get her to calm down a bit. New people in the Vault rarely happened- in fact, anything that broke routine in the Vault rarely happened. Missy’s default reaction seemed to be to show-off- as she had in the graveyard and when she’d been Prime Minister in a different body and when she’d dragged Clara around Skaro. That last one concerned the Doctor the most, mainly for the reasons she’d been showing off. Skaro was the stuff of Time Lord nightmares and Missy’s nightmares were not immune to the terror of the planet and its dreaded species. Her showing off had been a way to hide her fear and uncertainty, he worried that the same thing might be happening now. 

 

“Stay there a minute, Bill” the Doctor said as he approached the containment field. 

 

The human remained firmly stuck to the spot as she watched the Doctor place his hand on the glass and start speaking in a low, foreign language she could only guess was their native tongue. 

 

“Are you okay with us all being here?” The Doctor had asked in Gallifreyan. “This is your space and we won’t intrude unless it’s okay for us to be here.” 

 

The Vault may have been intended to be Missy’s tomb, but it had become her prison and the Doctor wanted her to view it as her home. Her comfort was paramount to him, not that he’d admit that to Nardole very often. 

 

Missy looked at the Doctor, crinkling her nose and stepping back. She didn’t respond in Gallifreyan, but in English and the Doctor took her return to theatrics as confirmation that she was okay with their presence. 

 

“You know, you reek of alcohol. The whole sorry lot of you! Did I miss something? Between you and those rowdy students last night, I sense that there was something of a celebration.” 

 

“Were the students too noisy for you Missy?” The Doctor asks in a low voice edged with concern. 

 

That was the second time Missy had mentioned the disturbance outside and there had been several occasions such disturbances had unsettled the Time Lady. The nights Missy had sat awake worrying over the noises outside were mainly in the past. That didn’t mean setbacks couldn’t happen. 

 

“You could have called me if they were bothering you. I know it makes you…uneasy.”

 

A flash of emotion that was unreadable crossed Missy’s face, but it disappeared as soon as it had arrived. Bill pondered for a moment on whether Missy had been scared but quickly pushed the thought out of her mind. She couldn’t possibly fear something as mundane as drunk students. 

 

“I didn’t care about the students,” Missy said too quickly to be true. “Now, why do you smell of wine? Expensive wine too…That’s the wine I gave you!” 

 

“It’s the wine you stole from King Louis XV and I confiscated from you to save your head.” The Doctor shot back. “Now, the reasons we were drinking wine are nothing to do with you.”

 

“It stopped you from coming down here last night.”

 

Bill’s back prickled at the bitterness she heard in Missy’s accusation. 

 

Missy picked up on Bill’s discomfort and turned her head, staring at her like a predator examining its prey. 

 

“You stopped him coming down to see me, didn’t you?” 

 

“No,” Bill said, words catching in her throat. “No, I didn’t stop him…We were having a party…to”

 

“A party!” Missy declared brightly. “How wonderful for you.”

 

“Missy” the Doctor warned.

 

His warning went unheeded and Missy continued to stalk the length of the containment field, eyes locked on Bill. What she says next surprised even the Doctor (though, it’s probably fairer to say, it surprised only the Doctor as she’s switched to Gallifreyan).

 

“What type of party?” She asks in a casual form of their ancient language. 

 

There’s a hidden weight to the words that only the Doctor noticed. Bill and Nardole were too entranced by the melodic syllables to notice anything else.

 

This wasn’t the surprising part of the question - Missy had always paid attention to details, wanting to know every little thing about an event. It was probably beneficial to evil schemes and war mongering.

 

“Was it the ceremonial party of time, or the ceremonial party of war?” 

 

This was the surprising part. They were, of course, the two most formal types of party on Gallifrey and in recent centuries they had become most common. In Gallifreyan, they translated neatly into one-word titles that had no direct Earth equivalent. While they were officially labelled parties, there was nothing festive or jovial or fun about them. They were merely another strand of Gallifreyan formalities (and terror), prepping the Academy’s youth for their destiny as warriors and sacrificing the weak for the greater good of the war. They were by no stretch, the only two types of parties on Gallifrey and he wasn’t sure why Missy seemed to think they were. Bill and Nardole weren’t sure what was going on but judging by unbroken stare between the two time lords, it was serious. 

 

After several seconds, it was the Doctor that broke the eye contact and silence. He wasn’t entirely convinced Missy wasn’t trying to wind him up, but something about the way she had asked and the look in her eyes that said otherwise.

 

“Are you serious?” The Doctor asked in Gallifreyan. 

 

Missy didn’t flinch, looking at him in anticipation with wide eyes. Why had he taken such offence to her question? She didn’t understand.

 

“Yes,” Missy nodded. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

 

The Doctor ran his hand over his face and groaned. His hangover instantly replaced with a Missy shaped ailment. Once again, the Time Lord was shocked by how disengaged with reality she’d become. It had been hard to notice when they only saw each other fleetingly amid a fresh battle, but if the last few decades had shown him anything about Missy, it was how warped she had become- disengaged with what reality really was about. 

 

Or was it him that had become disengaged from his own society? Did all the Time Lords now think the only type of parties to exist were sacrificial ceremonies masquerading as parties?

 

“English,” the Doctor reminded Missy. Its partly because he’d become aware of the human and cyborg in the room and partly because he wanted to buy time. “It was neither of those types of party, Missy. There are other types of parties.” 

 

Missy blinked at him and shook her head. 

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she tutted. “The citadel would never allow it. Has your mind gone soft in its old age?”

 

The Doctor gawped, blinking several times. 

 

“Since when did you care about what the citadel would and wouldn’t allow?” 

 

Missy looked back at the Doctor like he was speaking a language she didn’t understand. 

 

The Doctor caught a look on Missy’s face that he knows well, but never thought he’d see on his friend’s features. It was the look of oppressed societies, living under the restrictive rule of a totalitarian leadership. It was a look he’d seen on enslaved beings across the galaxy, too afraid to speak out against the regime that was hurting them. 

 

All too quickly, the Doctor remembered he hadn’t been back to Gallifrey with Missy for centuries. He knew his friend went very quiet when their home planet was brought up and he remembered all too well the tortures he’d experienced at their hands- and he hadn’t been there during the time lock. 

 

Had years of torture and warfare brainwashed Missy into thinking Gallifrey’s way was right?

 

When the silence went on longer than expected, Bill felt compelled to fill it in the way that all humans did when things got awkward: with inane chatter that says even less than the silence they’re trying to avoid.

 

“It was the end of term,” Bill said nervously. 

 

There’s a quiver in her voice that’s only there when she’s talking to someone intimidating or an attractive woman. Missy is both of those things and Bill felt her mouth dry up as she spoke. 

 

Still, she continued. 

 

“It was the end of term and exams and everyone was celebrating. That’s probably why you heard so many students out and about last night. It was that kind of party.” 

 

Missy tilted her chin upwards, jaw set. A flash of incomprehension crosses her features as her eyes darted between the Doctor and Bill. It’s the face she makes when she doesn’t understand something- an emotion she’s not used to and least successful at masking. It reminded the Doctor of the time Koschei failed a unit in second year quantum mechanics. 

 

“Oh, it was that type of party,” Missy nodded before turning away and returning to her piano. “I see.”

 

Nardole, who’d been humming away to himself in the background, announced that Missy’s breakfast was ready. Oblivious to the conversation that had been going on around him, Nardole placed the plates and juice on a tray and started to walk towards the containment field. 

 

“Leave it on the table, Nardole” the Doctor said. “Thank you. Missy and I are going to eat at the table.”

 

“You’re letting her out of the Vault while Bill’s here?”

 

“No, you and Bill were just leaving.”

 

Missy snorted in amusement, looking over her shoulder at her visitors and giving them a little farewell wave. 

 

“Well, we know where we’re not welcome,” Nardole says. “Come on Bill, do you fancy a fry up that greasy spoon?”

 

Bill nodded, not entirely sure what’s just happened but knowing she’s more than ready for a greasy hangover cure. 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Once it’s just the two Time Lords in the Vault, the Doctor retrieved the honey and added the extra tablespoon Missy had requested in her porridge. He quickly replaced the orange juice with a glass of cranberry juice. It’s not the cranberry juice from Venus, but it is her favourite Earth variety from Waitrose. 

 

“The egg will think you’re spoiling me,” Missy commented from behind the now deactivated containment field. 

 

“Nardole. His name is Nardole and he might be right,” the Doctor mused. “Come and sit at the table, Missy.”

 

The Time Lady did as he requested, prowling over to the table and sitting down in her chair. 

 

The pair started eating in silence, two consciousness buzzed away against each other making it a pleasant and comfortable silence. They made it halfway through breakfast before speaking again. 

 

“Do you remember the parties we had on Gallifrey?” The Doctor asked quietly. 

 

Missy- who had been about to take a sip of her juice- sighed and placed the glass back down.

 

“I remember my ceremonial party of time,” Missy shrugged. “Not so much the ceremonial party of war.” 

 

“No, not those parties. Our parties. When I asked you about it before, you looked like you couldn’t even remember them.”

 

Missy looked down and shook her head. 

 

“I don’t remember them because they didn’t happen.”

 

The Doctor swallowed and placed his spoon down. 

 

“They did,” he sighed and stood up, placing his dish in the sink. He noted the precariously balanced plastic dishes and cutlery and looked back at Missy. “It’s your turn to do the dishes, like it was last night. I’m not backing down and neither is Nardole, can I suggest you make a start on them this morning during your free time? It won’t be long until you’re buried under dirty dishes.”

 

“Free time,” Missy grumbled. “I have nothing but free time in here.”

 

“That’s not true,” the Doctor interjected. “you have a supervised reading time this afternoon.”

 

“Supervised reading time?” Missy asked with a sneer. “I’m not in primary school.”

 

“Missy” the Doctor grumbled tiredly. “We’ve been over this. Three afternoons a week you have supervised reading time on a subject of my choice. Its part of-“

 

“My rehabilitation. Yes, I’m quite aware of that. Plus, if I ever forget, I have that handy chart.”

 

There was a bitter edge to Missy’s voice as she motioned towards the brightly coloured schedule and rewards chart. The Doctor noted the decapitated stick man etched in red ink on the bottom left corner that hadn’t been there last time he looked. In retrospect, taking discipline advice from Mumsnet hadn’t been one of his better ideas- evidently very little advice could be found for dealing with Missy’s meltdowns in the thread ‘My three-year-old thinks she rules the roost’.” 

 

“So, what’s on the reading list today?” Missy asked, attracting his attention away from the chart.

 

She’d caught him out there. Between end of term marking and the previous night’s party, the Doctor had forgotten to select a topic. Struggling for an idea, his mind returned to Missy’s earlier confusion with the end of term celebrations. 

 

“Parties,” he declared semi-confidently.

 

If he’d been talking to anyone else, the decision wouldn’t have been questioned. Missy, however, could sense his uncertainty like an animal could sense fear. 

 

“Parties?” Missy questioned. “I don’t know what that has to do with ethics and morality and all your other spiel.” 

 

There was nothing semi-confident about her protest- she was completely confident in her defiance. So much so, in fact, that she was now prowling the length of the kitchen and waving her arms in dramatic, considered flourishes as she pronounced her distaste for his idea. 

 

“It has plenty to with it,” the Doctor said, cursing himself for showing hesitance. “Plus, its human culture. The more you understand about it, the more you’ll learn to feel empathy.”

 

Missy pulled a face, pretending to gag as her self-confident walk coming to a halt. 

 

“Give it a try,” the Doctor urged. “I’ll be back later with the reading.”

 

“It’s not like I have much choice in the matter, dear.”

 

“If you engage with the reading, I might let you plan your own party.”

 

Missy’s head tilted to the side in consideration. 

 

“Well, judging by how much fun you’ve all had, that may very well be incentive enough.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

By the start of the new week, the university campus was empty with most students heading home for their holidays. 

 

It was a stark difference to the weekend that had seen the hoards of partying students, but a good difference in the eyes of the Doctor and Nardole. For the cyborg, it meant less queues in the supermarket and his favourite coffee shop and the chance to watch Netflix undisturbed on a Friday night. For the Time Lord, it was a break from marking and lectures. It was also quieter for Missy and that was always a good thing because the students had the ability to make her feel more murderous or anxious based on her mood. Sometimes it was both, and that made everyone’s day a bad one. 

 

Not all the students had gone home, Bill was amongst about a dozen or so that had decided to stay around for the summer because of jobs or having nothing to return home to. Bill fell into both those categories but also had the extra factor of a trying too hard to be cool space granddad that could take her on trips far better than a six-week break in South-east Asia. 

 

“I was surprised you weren’t planning on spending more of your summer with Moira, Bill”

 

The aforementioned trying-too-hard-to-be-cool space granddad said as Nardole shuffled in with freshly brewed tea and snacks. 

 

“You’re surprised?” Bill asked, taking her tea with a nod of thanks in the cyborg’s direction. “Really? Everything you’ve heard about Moira, and you’re surprised that I’d rather spend as much time away from her as possible?”

 

The Doctor took a sip of his tea and shrugged in defeat. 

 

“I suppose I’m not really that surprised.”

 

“Why did you want me to meet you here anyway?” She asked casually. “I mean it’s great to see you, but you were being rather vague in the whatsapp message.” 

 

“He wouldn’t tell me either,” Nardole said as he took his seat. “His trying to be dark and mysterious and failing.”

 

“I am not,” the Doctor protested. “Its just easier to talk in person and together. You’re really making this much bigger than this needs to be!”

 

“I’m making it bigger than it needs to be?” Nardole squeaked. “You’re the one that called a mysterious meeting!” 

 

As the cyborg and Time Lord descended into a rambling of domestic bickering, Bill’s phone pinged to life with a series of notifications. Frowning, Bill looked down intrigued by what had caused such an unusual flurry of activity on her phone. Opening her Facebook, she jumped back as a 3D projection shot out of her screen. The projection showed an animation of balloons and a list of text inviting Bill to a party with details to follow. The display was enough to distract the Doctor and Nardole.

 

“Woah!” Bill exclaimed in shock. “What was that? Was that the government or the Russians or Google?”

 

“What the government inviting you to a party?” Nardole asked. “I doubt it.”

 

The Doctor looked over and scowled. 

 

“For goodness sake,” he muttered. “I told her to wait. How did she even do that?”

 

“How did who do what?” Bill asked in confusion. 

 

Nardole looked up at the Doctor, brow creased. 

 

“Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is…”

 

The Time Lord looked down like a guilty puppy. 

 

“Sir!” Nardole sighed in exasperation. “How did Missy get access to the external internet?”

 

“It’s not external,” the Doctor started. “I told her to only send it to you and Bill. She probably just got carried away and…”

 

“Wait, this was Missy?” Bill questioned, pointing at the projection that was now displaying a dancing cat. “Why is she sending out party invitations?” 

 

“Ah, well that’s actually what I called you here about. Do you remember the other day, after we’d been celebrating the end of term and went to see her in the Vault and she didn’t understand what we’d been celebrating and what a party was?” 

 

Bill nodded while Nardole’s face clouded in annoyance. He could see what was coming.

 

“Yeah that was weird,” Bill said. “What was she talking about with Celebrations of Time and…what was the other one?” She asked, trying to recall what the Doctor had explained after her visit to see Missy.

 

“War,” Nardole said quickly, turning away from Bill and glaring at the Doctor. “Sir, I can see where this is going, and I simply must protest. I know Missy really engaged with the supervised reading on human parties but if you’re suggesting Missy hosts a party, I really must voice my concerns.”

 

“Concerns voiced,” the Doctor said bluntly. “It’s still happening.”

 

“This is why she was asking me my favourite type of cake yesterday, isn’t it? I thought she was being nice!”

 

“She was being nice! She wants to make sure she has the right cake for you.” 

 

“Okay, I don’t understand half of what’s just been said but is there or isn’t there going to be a party?”

 

“There is,” the Doctor said as he silenced Nardole’s grumbling with a raised hand. “Tomorrow evening at 6pm. Food and drinks provided.”

 

“Do we have a say in this?” Nardole asked dryly.

 

“No, I know for a fact neither of you have anything better to do” the Doctor said. 

 

“A party might not be all that bad,” Bill reasoned. 

 

Nardole grumbled under his breath.

 

“That’s the spirit!” The Doctor beamed, ignoring Nardole. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I promised Missy I’d help her with the final preparations. I also need to have a chat with her about using the internet when I’m not there.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

The Vault was quiet and dark when the Doctor entered. In one hand, the Doctor was clutching a bag of supplies Missy had requested for the party and a time-worn box, full of mementos he hoped would trigger some memories of previous parties for Missy. Reaching for the light switch with his free hand, he clicked it on and watched the room burst into light. Looking around the Vault, he took in the colourful decorations that were draped around the walls. His eyes wandered over to the bed in the far corner and he caught sight of Missy curled up on the mattress, lazily flipping through a magazine. Her presence was buzzing away in a much happier and relaxed mood than he could remember her being in for several months. A silk, red dress hung over the bed frame proudly and shone in the new light. 

 

“You shouldn’t be reading in the dark, it’s not good for your eyes,” the Doctor said as he walked over to the bed and sat on the end. 

 

Missy didn’t look up, even as the mattress dipped under the Doctor’s weight and pretended to carry on reading. He spotted her smile at his closeness and knew she was doing her best to tease him and deliberately ignore him. She was in a playful mood, evidently spurred on by the day’s party planning. Placing the supplies and boxed memories down, the Doctor grasped Missy’s foot and placed it in his lap. Stroking it gently at first, he smiled as she tried to stop her body from twitching in response. The Master had always been ticklish in every form- but none more so than Missy. The Doctor idly wondered how many plots could have been foiled with that kind of knowledge. He chose not to ponder it for too long and instead started to draw circles on the arch of Missy’s bare foot. It was nice- a throwback to a more innocent intimacy they had shared centuries ago. It was also nice to feel Missy respond positively to physical contact, something that wouldn’t have happened when she first started her sentence in the Vault. 

 

The Doctor continued to trace his finger along the bottom of Missy’s foot, watching as she tried to keep her slim frame still and pressed her face into the pillow to hide the giggling that was threatening to descend over her entire being. Smirking, the Doctor reached his hand under the light cotton of her shirt and tickled her ribs. That was all it took to make her crack. With an undignified snort, Missy’s body turned to jelly, and she giggled and gasped for air. 

 

“Ah!” The Doctor exclaimed, “that got your attention.” 

 

Pulling his hands away from Missy, he unlaced his shoes and kicked them off as he swung his legs onto the bed. Missy uncurled and sat up, bringing her knees up to her chest and tugging her shirt over her legs. She tapped her toes along the mattress and scowled at the Doctor in mock annoyance. 

 

“You think you’re so big and funny,” Missy sang. “I will get you back.” 

 

“I’m bigger and funnier than you,” the Doctor retorted, “And I don’t doubt that you will get me back-just as long as you get me back in ways that are allowed in the Vault and you leave me with all my limbs.” 

 

Missy poked her tongue out and rested her chin on her knees. For the first time, the Doctor noticed her hair was piled on top of her head in rollers. On the bedside table he saw the empty packets of face masks and pallets of sparkly make up. Glancing down at the magazine he read the title of the article ‘Be Party Ready This Festive Season!” It was an old magazine from several Christmases ago, but that didn’t seem to have bothered Missy. It was endearing really, how much effort she was putting into a party for four people. 

 

“What’s with the hair?” He asked as he tapped his own mop of grey curls. 

 

“I’m getting party ready,” Missy drawled as she motioned towards the magazine. “Did Thing One and Thing Two get their invites?” 

 

“Nardole and Bill got their invites, yes” the Doctor nodded. “Though, I thought we had agreed you weren’t to send them out until I’d spoken to them.”

 

“Ah, that” Missy sighed. “Dear, you did promise it would be my party and I could be in charge. I might have got a bit excited and sent out the invites a little too early. What did you think of the invite, by the way?”

 

“Impressive,” the Doctor conceded. “But can you promise that you will stick to everything we agree for the rest of the party? If I’m bringing my friends in here, I need them to be safe.”

 

Missy rolled her eyes and made a show of crossing her hearts. Lifting her arm, she nodded at the bangle that dangled from her wrist. 

 

“I promise, dear. Anyway, I’m sure this little bangle you gave me will prevent any potential opportunities of decapitation.”

 

The Doctor winced but nodded at her words, before he had the chance to say anything Missy’s eyes ad wandered down to the bag of supplies. 

 

“You got everything on my list?” 

 

“Nearly everything. I’m choosing to believe that you misunderstood the rules for pin the tail on the donkey when you asked for a real donkey.”

 

“You can choose to believe what you want- you do anyway,” Missy replied as she glanced down at the old box that sat next to bag of supplies. “That wasn’t on my list.”

 

The Doctor looked down and scooped up the box, opening it out and carefully picking up an ancient photo album. 

 

“No, this was on my list. It’s photos from the parties we had an Gallifrey. I say parties but we both know we were too dorky to actually have parties” the Doctor chuckled as he carefully opened the album. “They were parties to use though.”

 

As he looked over to Missy, the Doctor caught sight of her pained expression and a puzzled look in her eyes. It was like she was trying to remember something she couldn’t from a different life. 

 

“Pictures weren’t allowed at the ceremonial…”

 

“I’m not talking about the official ceremonial parties, Missy!” The Doctor sighed. “No one from Gallifrey can hear you, it’s okay to talk about the parties. How can you not remember them?”

 

He hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but he was frustrated that his best friend couldn’t- or wouldn’t- remember some of the best times they had shared. They were his dearest memories and if she refused to acknowledge them, how could they remain special? 

 

“I don’t remember them,” Missy said quietly, head bowed. “There’s lots of things about home I don’t remember and other things I choose not to remember but, I’m sorry I just don’t remember the other parties.” 

 

The Doctor swallowed and reached forward, tentatively tilting Missy’s chin up to look at him. 

 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice. If you don’t remember the parties, it’s not your fault. Missy, do you remember anything nice about home?” 

 

Missy’s brow creased, and she nodded pensively. 

 

“I remember you,” she said quietly. “I remember the way you used to hold me after a long day at the Academy or the way I’d hold you when you were afraid of the dark and the way we used to hold each other when we were little more than children dressed as soldiers and returning from the latest battle.”

 

Smiling the Doctor clasped her hand and raised it to his mouth. He placed a gentle kiss to each knuckle and lowered it to rest between his hearts. Missy watched, wide eyed as she tried to process the emotions. It was intense for her, to let herself feel things she hadn’t felt in centuries and little moments like this had the power to comfort or overwhelm depending on her mood. 

 

“You okay?” The Doctor asked, knowing full well the impact that a small moment of intimacy could have on his friend. 

 

Missy nodded and blinked. 

 

“I think so,” she said. “Will you hold me like you used to?”

 

“Of course.”

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Missy had been laying in the Doctor’s arms for close to an hour, idly talking about her plans for the party as he traced Gallifreyan letters into the soft skin of her stomach. It felt warm and safe and pleasant. It also gave her the confidence to ask more about the parties she couldn’t recall.

 

“What kind of things did we celebrate at your parties?” 

 

“They were our parties,” the Doctor said quietly into the darkened Vault. “Well, most of them were at least. My wedding party was mine and my wife’s. Your party when you got that new job with the government was yours but the early parties at the Academy were all ours.

 

“Cilinzia,” Missy said wistfully as she thought of the Doctor’s first wife for the first time in centuries. “Now that is a blast from the past. So, a wedding party- that was one reason for your parties. Was I there?” 

 

“Yes,” the Doctor stated calmly. He tried not to show his concern at her lack of recollection. “And you were drunk as a skunk, so that might account for your lack of memory on that one.” 

 

Missy laughed heartily at that. 

 

“That I believe,” she drawled. “It would have been my second body- another one with breasts- she loved her drink.” 

 

“I know she did,” the Doctor agreed. “She also liked to get into drunken fights.”

 

“I didn’t do that at your wedding party, did I?” 

 

“No, you threw up in the vase at the bottom of mine and Cilinzia’s bed and then fell to sleep wedged between us. It was dead romantic.” 

 

“Ah,” Missy said, and she almost sounded embarrassed. “Maybe its best I don’t remember that one.”

 

The Doctor laughed kindly. 

 

“We spent decades laughing about it. All of us did Kos, can you really not remember it?” 

 

Missy shook her head and watched as the Doctor sat up and reached for the old photo album. She felt a sudden coldness at the absence of his embrace but watched with interest as he opened the album and started to flip through the photographs. 

 

“I told you,” Missy shrugged. “Major gaps in anything to do with Gallirey. Are those photographs from the wedding party?”

 

“Yes,” the Doctor said holding up a dusty photograph of Theta and his bride, Cilinzia. “There’s me and Cil.” 

 

After passing the photo to Missy, the Doctor turns the page and laughs at the picture staring back at him. It was a candid shot of two petitie Time Ladies, staring at each other with complete adoration. To an outsider, they looked the same age but to a Time Lord it was possible to tell that the one with short blonde hair was significantly older and wiser than the other. It radiated from the picture as much as the obvious love the pair shared. It wasn’t a romantic love, or even a platonic love, but more a maternal love. The love shared between a parent and a child. The older woman was frozen in time as she pushed a stand of raven hair behind the younger woman’s ear. The younger woman’s cheeks had flushed red, probably in response to hyper-vodka cocktail that she had clasped in her hand, but her eyes were damp with indescribable love. It was a snapshot that managed to epitomise the pair’s relationship to all that knew them. 

 

“Here you are with my mother,” he explained affectionately. “She loved you so much. She was deeply worried about you, too, but look at the way she looked at you.”

 

“I loved her too,” Missy sighed. “It nearly killed her when I went to prison the first time. First you left, and then I went on a murder spree. I hate that we did that to her.”

 

“I hate that we did it full stop,” the Doctor sighed and pressed a consoling kiss to her forehead. “But we’re not talking about that, we’re reminiscing about parties.”

 

Missy nodded, eyes returning to the picture when she suddenly felt a spark of recognition. 

 

“It was your mother that put me in your bed,” she recalled fondly. “I remember, I think I remember it. I’d been dancing but then it all went spinny and I went upstairs to find the bathroom and ended up finding your vase. Your mother had followed me upstairs when she saw me leave the dance floor and she helped me get changed and put me to bed. I remember it now, we did have parties! They actually happened!” 

 

The Doctor beamed at the recollection- every detail was correct. 

 

“That’s right and she came down afterwards and told me and Cilinzia and she was so apologetic, but we just burst out laughing.” 

 

Missy looked back down at the photo and smiled. 

 

“Can I keep this one in here please?” 

 

The Doctor nodded and passed the photo to her. Missy held it carefully and placed it on the bedside table. As she did so, the Doctor turned over the page and gasped in surprise at the next photo. 

 

“Now, this one really is a relic!” He exclaimed. “Us in first year. No alcohol needed- we went out to a cabin in the fields off site. Me, you, Ushas and a few others and we played ridiculous games and jammed.”

 

“Jammed?”

 

“Yes, played music. Do you remember this party?” 

 

“Not really. Look how young we look, though!”

 

“I know. We were babies.”

 

The next few hours became a trip down memory lane for the two Time Lords as they made their way through the different pictures from different parties. There were pictures of their graduation, summer barbeques and Theta’s children’s birthday parties. Some of the celebrations Missy remembered, others she didn’t but they had a good time reminiscing and the Doctor was reassured that Missy wasn’t so brainwashed by the Gallifreyan state that she’d lost sight of the good times. As they reached the back page, the Doctor felt Missy tense. Looking down, he caught sight of a beaming Time Tot sat on her mother’s lap. The photo was old but held a raw freshness. 

 

“It’s just a picture,” the Doctor said quietly as he kissed gently behind Missy’s ear. 

 

“I know,” Missy sighed. “That’s the problem.”

 

Missy remained calmer than the Doctor had expected, so he pressed on with the usual questions he’d asked about the other photographs. 

 

“Do you remember this party?”

 

“My baby’s second birthday,” Missy whispered. As she spoke, she reached her hand out and stroked the photo wistfully. “It’s me and Maisa.” 

 

“Yes,” the Doctor smiled. “Do you remember her face when she tried the iced cake for the first time?” 

 

The Doctor said it fondly, recalling the infant’s bright eyes and excitement when the cake had arrived. He remembered how all her chubby limbs had waved in excitement and she’d scooped as large slice inside her gummy mouth. 

 

“Yes,” Missy said. The response was strangled and followed by a pained sob. “Yes, and this is why I don’t like remembering things from Gallifrey. Even the good memories hurt.” 

 

Knowing when enough was enough, the Doctor closed the photo album and turned his full attention to the Time Lady. He reached under the back of her shirt and pressed his hand against her back, rubbing in small consoling circles. The skin contact allowed for the kind of comfort and closeness the Time Lady needed and she lapped it up. 

 

“It’s okay,” he reassured. It wasn’t. None of what had happened to their families had been okay, but it was what you were supposed to say to people grieving. “It’s all okay.”

 

“Can we stop looking back now and go back to looking forward?” 

 

Missy sniffed and looked back at him. The Doctor nodded. 

 

“Yes, tell me more about your party. We’re all looking forward to it.”

 

XXXXXXXX

 

When the Doctor awoke the next morning, it was with the realisation that he had spent the whole night in the Vault with Missy. He felt the Time Lady’s presence still in slumber as her warm body pressed against his side. Reaching for his phone, he sent a quick text off to Nardole saying that he would sort out the morning routine and that he’d meet him at half five in his office ahead of the party. It was evident from the random mix of decorations and party games and foods that the Time Lady had prepared that it was going to be a bit of a jumble. Nevertheless, Missy had clearly put in a lot of effort and after listening to her gushing about the party until she fell to sleep, the Doctor could tell she was excited. 

 

“Good morning,” a sleep laced voice said. “You stayed all night?”

 

“I did,” the Doctor nodded. 

 

“Today’s my party?” 

 

He couldn’t help but smile at the childish excitement that the centuries-old Time Lady was showing.

 

“It is. I’m going to leave you the get things ready in a minute, but first can you just repeat the rules to me so I know you know them?”

 

“No violence, if I feel like I’m going to do something bad I tell you and you’ll take Bill and Nardole away.”

 

“Yes, what are the other ones?” 

 

“No trying to escape and no hypnotism and no alcohol?”

 

The Doctor nodded. There were probably a hundred more things that should be on the list but the main ones were covered. 

 

“Are you sure you don’t want my help setting up?” 

 

“Yes!” Missy exclaimed. “It’s my party, so I’m organising it!”

 

“Okay, okay,” the Doctor muttered. “I’ll see you at six pm.”

 

XXXXXXXX

 

“Well don’t we scrub up well,” Nardole commented as he admired the Doctor and Bill all dressed up in their party outfits. 

 

Bill laughed and brushed down her sparkly dress self-consciously. Were it not for the biker boots, she would have worried she’d dressed to formally for the Vault party. It was strange seeing the Doctor and Nardole donning bow ties and suits. They looked like a little and large penguin. 

 

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Nardole.” 

 

“Right, enough with the chit chat,” the Doctor said. “She’s expecting us at six and she’ll be worried if we’re late.”

 

Bill and Nardole rolled their eyes but followed the Doctor into the Vault. As they entered, they were shocked to see the usually darkened room decorated in bright colours. The table in the middle of the kitchen area was draped in a red table cloth and had a selection of canapes laid out on plastic plate. In the background, soft party music was playing and creating a relaxing ambiance. 

 

“Wonderful!” Missy gushed, entering in to sight from the shadows. “You all made it.”

 

She gave a little twirl, volumous curls bounced on her shoulders and her red dress twirled around her like a ballerina’s tutu. The Doctor rolled his eyes at her theatrics, knowing that she’d probably spent all morning practicing her entrance. A smile formed at the image of her twirling and curtseying in an empty Vault. 

 

“We said we’d be here, so here we are Missy” the Doctor said. 

 

“Shush you spoil sport,” Missy said and turned to Bill and Nardole. “Now children, do take a seat and mummy will get you both a drink. I’m afraid daddy has said no alcohol allowed, but I have a very special fruit punch and I haven’t poisoned it or anything.”

 

Its said in complete truth, but is still unnerving. Bill looked over at the Doctor, confused by most of what had just come out of the Time Lady’s mouth. 

 

“Did she just call you daddy?” 

 

“I find it best not to ask about those certain things, Bill” Nardole responded. “Let’s go and get a seat.”

 

“Okay,” the human agreed hesitantly. “But the punch definitely isn’t poisoned?”

 

“She wouldn’t have got poison in here,” Nardole replied. “I’m ninety percent certain of it.”

 

The Doctor watched the human and cyborg disappear into the living area and approached Missy, placing his hand on the small of her back as she poured the drinks. 

 

“You look beautiful,” he whispered in her ear, knowing this form of her liked those kind of compliments. “You look beautiful and you’ve done and amazing job but try and wind in the crazy a little bit.”

 

“Dear,” Missy laughed grinning with all her teeth. “When have I ever managed that?”

 

XXXXXXXX

 

The party- to everyone’s delight- was a roaring success. It went on into the early hours of the morning, with the group of misfits playing games, chatting, dancing and eating. Missy made a point of taking several photos and posting them to an Instagram page the Doctor didn’t even know she had. According to the Time Lady, her squad selfies were a sure sign that she’d immersed herself into twenty-first century human parties. Bill supported her claim, much to the Doctor’s chagrin. The party ended when Missy, evidently tired of the night and the company, unsubtly went and plonked herself on her bed without saying a word.

 

“Um, I think that might be the end of the night” the Doctor had tried to say tactfully to Nardole and Bill. 

 

Both had nodded, accepting that while the party had been fun, there was probably only so much a homicidal Time Lady could take having company in her Vault. 

 

“And what a good night it was,” Bill said cheerfully. “Thanks for all of it Missy!”

 

The Time Lady said nothing but did give Bill a thumbs up. The Doctor made a note to talk about party etiquette with her on another day while Bill and Nardole disappeared. 

 

“They’ve gone now, Missy. Did you enjoy yourself?”

 

“Yes,” Missy said with a yawn. “I think I did a very good job.” 

 

The Doctor laughed.

 

“You did.”

 

“Seen as though I did such a good job, it’s down to you to do the tidying up. That’s the rules.” 

 

“I’ve never read those rules before,” the Doctor teased.

 

“They’re unwritten but that doesn’t mean they don’t’ exist.”

 

“Is that right?” the Doctor asked as he approached the bed and joined Missy. “How about we both do it in the morning?” 

 

“How horribly domestic,” Missy sneered as she opened an eye to peer at him. “It’s like when we cleaned up together after the party you had following Rilni’s birth. I was sickeningly nice and helped you tidy up while Cilinzia rested- I was on major godmother duties. I even took your other sprogs to the beach afterwards. Now, that was a party though!”

 

The Doctor stilled, an odd mixture of emotions hitting him. There was pain at the memory of his children and wife but also a warmth at the mention of the memory. Then there was a moment of relief- Missy had recalled that memory on her own, without any prompting. 

 

“You remembered a party” the Doctor gushed. 

 

“Would you look at that,” Missy trilled tiredly. “So, I did.”


End file.
